Desperate Obsession
by A Sirius Crush On Moony
Summary: Bellatrix is in love with him, and every little thing he does excites her, no matter how dangerous it is... Bellatrix/Voldemort


**Well, this was written for the 'Out of Your Comfort Zone' Challenge in HPFC, and I have to say I enjoyed writing it.**

**I've never written this pairing before (well it's _sort of_ hinted at in another one of my fics) and it was interesting XP**

**Enjoy! ;)**

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><p><strong>DESPERATE OBSESSION<strong>

She just couldn't take her eyes off him – everything about him was just so entrancingly fascinating. She felt like she was trapped in a cage, suffocating from the deprivation of his loving. She knew he wouldn't want her in the way she wanted him, but she was obsessed.

His pure lust for killing sent shivers down her spine – a feeling she couldn't control, but she wasn't complaining, it made the whole thing more exciting. When he came back after killing, she could always tell by that glimmer in his eyes, and she had to fight with herself to stop from lunging forward and attacking him.

She was his most loyal, and she bragged about it enough to everyone who listened. Just to let people know she was _his_ and he put his faith in _her_.

The way he spoke her name made her go weak at the knees, it was like hearing her name for the first time, every time he spoke it. The way no other Death Eater would _dare_ call him by his name except for her.

It was the torture, the punishment. She revelled in it. The pain didn't bother her, but it comforted her that _he_ was inflicting it on her. It was like her own sexual fantasies coming to life, except he didn't know what it was.

It was at that point that she so was mesmerized by his presence that she failed to realise he was speaking to her.

"Bellatrix?"

She snapped out of her thoughts immediately and stared into those crimson eyes, feeling her heart seem to explode in her chest at the mention of her name in his cold, high voice.

"Yes, My Lord?" she said.

"I was just telling everybody about my unfortunate complications, but you seemed to be somewhere else," he stated accusatory.

"Forgive me, My Lord!" She said quickly, bowing her head slightly. "I was just reminiscing."

"Reminiscing?" he questioned.

"I was reminiscing the times I tortured people for fun. My Lord, when can I do that once more? Must we always kill and torture for _necessity_ these days? I want to do it for fun."

"Ah," he said, his eyes flaring. She was sure her heart had stopped. She knew that she was going to get punished for her words, and she had to bottle up the urge to smile at the thought of him torturing her. "You say you want torture for _fun_?" he asked with a small malicious smile.

"Yes, My Lord," she said hungrily.

"Very well."

What she felt next was electrifying beyond belief. Every part of her was screaming for it to stop, except her mind. She wanted it to last forever. The pain was so exhilarating, she felt as though she _needed_ it. It was like a requirement – an essential part to her life.

It was fulfilling to know to what extent she could control him. No matter what she did, he would always please her in some shape or form.

If she acted kind to him, he would praise her, and if she acted rudely, he would torture her. She couldn't help the laugh that emerged from her mouth, which only made him add more force to the curse.

She could feel it pulsing up through her veins and through her entire body, until she felt like she was burning with her desire to grab him, kiss him, love him.

It was a desperation that was so strong that the only way she ever felt this close to carrying out those deep desires was when he was torturing her with this much passion. It was like bliss.

And then it was gone. She lay there on the cold stone floor and stared up at the ceiling in satisfaction.

Maybe this was why her mind was so screwed up and deranged – the constant torturing and pain, but she welcomed it so happily that she couldn't complain. Swapping being sane and lonely with madness and desire felt like a fair trade.

She got to her feet and slid back into her chair in one swift movement, and her eyes drifted over to her sister who stared at her knowingly, worriedly. She smirked and looked up towards _him_.

Her obsession, her addiction, her desperate need.

_Voldemort._

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><em>


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